The Ascension of Harry Black
by DaenerysxMalfoy
Summary: Harry Potter, younger brother to the Boy-Who-Lived, was disowned and sent to Durmstrang at a young age. Adopted by Sirius Black, Harry Black watches the rise of Voldemort from afar and realizes that their world needs more than just a Light or Dark side to fight for and slowly begins to raise his own army, intent on changing the world. HP/DM. Dark!Independent!Harry.
1. Happiness Lost, Found & Lost

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters. I am simply writing this for fun. Enjoy. **

**Notes: ** This will be a Dark!Harry (really it's Independent!Harry, and in a big way) story and therefore he will _not_ be friends with many people from the Light side. There will be "bashing" but it won't be unfounded. (I hate unfounded bashing in a story, and I promise you will believably hate them as much as I do too.)

- AU, though there are few changes. Harry will become a..._third _option in this war, and there will be a war.

- Though this chapter starts off with their first year, the story itself begins when they are 16 and entering **6th Year** and onward.

**-** This story will be long, there will be lots of character development and is told from either Harry or Draco's perspective only. (With brief 'interludes' from other characters perspective occasionally)

- I hate OC's and so you will not see any in my story other than the 'other twin'. But he's just a foil, really, and doesn't feature strongly except for a focal point for hate. I sincerely believe that J.K Rowling has provided us with _more_ than enough characters to play around with.

I believe that covers everything, at least for this introductory chapter. Enjoy and please, review. I love feedback, even criticism.

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**Chapter One**

**Happiness Lost, Found & Lost. **

**-x-x-x-x-x-**

When Harry Potter was 5 years old, he came to a very distinct realization about his home life: he was treated very differently than his twin. It started off subtly, a forgotten greeting here, an overlooked hug or kiss there. Then, it gradually progressed until by the time he was 10, there was only one Potter child whose birthday was officially celebrated. Oh, he received presents, mostly clothes to replace his small wardrobe, castoffs that his brother had never liked and never worn so they were almost brand new. One year, he had even lucked out and received a dark emerald cloak that his mother had purchased for his brother William just two months before. William hadn't liked it, it wasn't red, and so it had been thrown into a dangerously large pile of clothes and toys that Harry called the 'castaway pile'.

Harry, for the most part, was not bothered by his parents neglect. Not at least until the age of 8, when William began to realize the distinction too. Being the Boy-Who-Lived, William had always had a bit of a big head, even when he didn't quite understand what it all meant. But, when he realized that it meant that even his parents treated him differently…well, then, Harry really began to hate his life at home.

For a young child of 8, the only concerns one should have involved mud, sunlight and adventure. But for one Harry Potter, life became a horror tale. His parents caved to William's every wish and desire. And what he desired most was that Harry do everything that he say.

Oh sure, James and Lily Potter loved both of their children, but William was _special_ and Harry was quiet, and he didn't seem to mind that William asked so much of him. So, they gently guided Harry into following William's every request.

It wasn't long after that however, that things began to change. It seemed to them, to everyone really, that it was acceptable that Harry was subservient to William. Instead of it simply being that William requested something and Harry acquiesced, life turned to William demanded something and Harry was expected to follow through. Slowly, overtime, Harry became less a son and more a servant and even James and Lily seemed to have forgotten that he was their son and not a house elf.

Things only became worse when William, at the age of 9, began to have uncontrolled magical tantrums. He'd made the mistake, or maybe it was a bit of genius if you were looking at it from the Potter's point of view, of having a tantrum right in the middle of Diagon Alley. He'd blown out the windows of Quality Quidditch Supplies and everyone had gawked as if he had just resurrected the dead (with a heavy ritual). He'd received a free broom and more attention than anyone rightly deserved for blowing up private property. Especially since he'd only been upset because Lily didn't think it best that he have ice cream before lunch.

From that point on, the world was once again fixated on William Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. He'd previously enjoyed a monthly, sometimes even bi-weekly article in the Daily Prophet. After his little magical display however, the Daily Prophet took to William Reporting and probably could have changed its name to _The Daily William Report_ and no one would have bat an eye. Never mind that children all over the Wizarding World had magical outbursts every now and then, William was _special_ and therefore his magical outbursts could _only_ be a sign of greatness to come.

So it was that, by the age of 11, William was being heralded as the next Merlin and when his Hogwarts letter arrived, he held no less than 3 press conferences. His Godfather, Albus Dumbledore, greatest Wizard of their age, was more than doting on the eldest Potter boy and even announced that he himself would be giving young William Potter personal training during his Hogwarts education. The Wizarding World was indeed in love with William Potter.

All the while, Harry Potter grew bitter and enraged. He himself had had his own first _controlled_ magical outburst at the age of 4. He and William had been climbing the big oak tree in their backyard when Lily suddenly appeared, calling them in for lunch. Startled, William had slipped and fallen from the uppermost boughs of the tree and Lily, shocked, could only watch in horror as her baby fell. Harry, who had been in the process of climbing down, had merely looked up and, with both hands upraised as if he were going to catch his brother, slowed his descent until he was hovering just an inch above the ground. With nothing more than a smile, he'd let his brother drop and patted his mother on the leg. And his mother had, at the time, kissed him softly on the forehead and claimed him to be the smartest and strongest child in the world.

His magic came to him easily, far easier than it should if any of the books he read were any indication. And so Harry had taken to reading anything and everything he could to learn to master his magic. He was not naïve, he knew that mastering ones magic could take more than a lifetime, but he did wish for control and so, by the time William had his first outburst (he'd burned James' favorite chair to a crisp in a fit of rage), Harry had been able to conjure water for years and did just that to put out the small fire starting at the base of his robes. No one noticed of course, all too wrapped up in the magic that was William, but Harry knew without a doubt that he was more powerful than his special twin.

Still, his family treated him with indifference. When they treated him at all. Sometimes, his mother would look at him in shock, before asking him to prepare breakfast or clean James' room or any other of the thousands of chores that were Harry's and Harry's alone. His father rarely spoke to him, unless it was to repeat an order of William's or request more food.

In the misery that Harry's life had become, the only bright spot in his life was his godfather, Sirius Black. He didn't visit often, his job as a Potions ingredient hunter kept him travelling all around the world. But when he would occasionally visit, he always brought back something rare and exotic for Harry and would regal him with his wild adventures battling creatures and other Wizards for rare and prized ingredients. Harry would listen, delighted, and imagine he were with Sirius, flying on his large motorcycle and defeating an enraged troll with nothing more than his wits and a bit of wandless magic. Then he would fall asleep, only to awake a little later to the sounds of James and Sirius arguing.

It bothered Harry that they would fight over him. He didn't like his parents or his brother much, but Sirius and James were like family, and Harry surely didn't want Sirius to fight with James over him. He could understand the hatred Sirius felt about the differential treatment Lily and James gave William and Harry, he felt it every day, but it was his burden to bare. Not Sirius.

He also didn't like that it caused such tension between Remus Lupin, Sirius' partner and Williams godfather, and Sirius. Harry had stumbled across the couple arguing once and didn't like that he was, once again, the source of the argument. Remus was never mean to Harry, no he treated him just as he treated William (and he treated William like a regular 9 year old boy and not a celebrity, which William absolutely hated), but he never spoke up against the treatment of Harry and it bothered Sirius that Remus never sided with him whenever he confronted James. Remus could only reply that it was not _his _business, not his family, and he didn't think it right to judge Lily and James on how they raised their children when he had none of his own. Sirius would of course argue that that didn't matter, that a blind kneazle could raise a child better than James and Lily were raising Harry, but Remus would hear nothing of it and Sirius would storm off in a rage, disappearing on another month long adventure to escape the stark reality of home.

Despite Sirius Black, however, Harry had no friends and so when he received his own Hogwarts letter he was more than a little excited to attend the prestigious school of his ancestors and perhaps get out of the shadow of his brother.

It was with a happy heart that young Harry Potter boarded the Hogwarts Express and settled into a lone compartment, pulling out a thick tome titled _So You Want to Be a Potions Hunter? Watch Out For the Widdlewort, and Other Helpful Anecdotes,_ and settled in for a peaceful journey.

Less than halfway through the ride, his compartment had opened and a handsome, dark-skinned young boy entered. He wore expensive robes and a guarded expression. Around his neck was wrapped a snake with skin darker than his young master, except for a steel colored diamond on its head. The two had stared at each other guardedly until Harry casually stuck out his hand and said, "Harry."

The dark-skinned boy had grasped his hand firmly and smiled without baring any teeth. "Blaise." His dark eyes sparkled with intelligence and power and Harry was more than a little happy at the prospect of their being friends.

He was even more ecstatic when Blaise simply sat across from him and took out a book of his own, the title of which Harry could not read. They passed the ride in silence until their compartment opened once more and two boys of immense size and muscle (especially being that they were only 11) entered followed by another, who could only be Draco Malfoy. Haughty, and intelligent, the young Malfoy heir swept in and took the seat next to Blaise, instantly complaining about William Potter and Ron Weasley.

"You honestly tried to befriend them?" Blaise asked incredulously as Draco closed his tale.

"Honestly? No. But even if it wasn't an honest attempt he had no right to turn down my offer. And Weasley! Where does he get off trashing my name? His parents named him _Ronald_. Boring, plain and inconsequential, just like he is."

The young Malfoy heir had his fists clenched so tightly, he broke the skin of his palm and cursed as they began to bleed.

It was only when Harry moved to heal the wounds with a quick flick of his wand and a muttered _episkey_ that Draco even realized he was in the compartment.

"Thanks," he muttered suspiciously. "Who are you?"

"Harry." Harry replied.

"Harry..?" Draco said slowly with a raised eyebrow.

"Harry...Potter." Harry murmured, trailing off as he confessed his surname like it was a sin.

The two immense boys sucked in a gasp of surprise, both looking at Draco with their mouths open in shock. Draco himself, kept his surprise to only a widening of his eyes while Blaise stared at Harry with an eyebrow raised.

"Didn't know the Potters had another child…well, to be honest we sort of thought you were dead." Draco murmured. He was still eyeing Harry suspiciously, probably thinking back on all the nasty things he'd said about William earlier, and wondering why Harry hadn't said anything in his brother's defense. For his part, Harry was trying to think of the best way to disassociate himself from his family, without it making the front page news.

"I – uh – can understand why…" He eventually said. They lapsed into an awkward silence.

"About what I was saying earlier…" Draco began, his voice a bit defensive. Harry immediately stopped him with both hands raised.

"You don't have to apologize. I hate my brother." He said. He'd never admitted that to anyone and it felt freeing. So freeing in fact, that he sent the other boys a carefree and honest smile, they relaxed and, after looking at each other, smiled back at him. Real smiles, the smiles boys share when they have formed a band of brothers.

The rest of the train ride was spent in the idle conversation of like-minded boys. Books forgotten, Blaise, Harry and Draco talked about everything from Potions to their home lives while Crabbe and Goyle added little and watched much. All and all, by the time the five boys entered the little boats and floated towards Hogwarts they were thick as thieves and had forgotten all about the other Potter.

Unfortunately, things were not to last. Harry's new found happiness, to be more specific, was not to last.

As he sat upon the stole and listened (along with the rest of the highly interested student population) with bated breath to the Sorting Hat's announcement, he knew things were never to be the same.

Because, with a highly excited shout, the Sorting Hat placed him in _SLYTHERIN!_ And it was with a somewhat heavy heart that Harry made his way over the empty seat beside Draco. He knew, without a doubt, that his family was _not _going to like this. But he was at school now and the sorting was done so, he smiled heartily at his new housemates and avoided looking at his twin who was currently sitting on the stole. Like with Harry, the hat had barely touched Williams head before yelling out _GRYFFINDOR!_ to the exuberant joy of the Gryffindor table. The entire hall erupted into chatter as everyone looked between the two twins. Where William was tall and kind of stocky with brownish-red hair and hazel eyes, Harry was tall and thin with black hair, emerald eyes and spectacles. He didn't _look_ evil, but he didn't look friendly and was sitting very close to a Malfoy.

With the kind of mob mentality that only schools can possess, Harry became known as the Dark Twin, the _other_ Potter, to be whispered about as if he were cursed.

Harry frowned marginally, ignoring the chatter and stared at the head table where two professors were looking him. One, a greasy haired man in dark robes, eyed him critically, though his mouth was twisted in a sour frown. The other, a man wearing a purple turban looked at him with wide eyes that did not at all match the firm line of his mouth. It was when Harry's eyes connected with this strange man that the old scar he'd received as a child, the same scar that showed the world that William had saved his little brother Harry, flared into life. Harry pushed away from the table, a hand clasped to his forehead as he squeezed his eyes in pain. Beside him, Draco slouched a little and placed a hand on his leg.

"Alright, Harry?"

"Yea…yea…" he murmured. Blaise, who had ended the sorting and made his way over to the Slytherin table, glared at a passing Hufflepuff as he slide onto the bench beside Harry.

"Alright?" He murmured.

Harry nodded, sitting up straight once more. "Alright." He said.

That night, Harry and his new friends spent the night swapping stories and eating chocolates that Draco's mother had supplied for him and his friends. It was the first night that Harry felt _at home_ somewhere and it was a wonderful feeling. As he drifted off to sleep, Harry relaxed and smiled into his pillow thinking, _I've finally found a home._

The next morning however, found Harry in the Headmaster's office with his parents who coldly and distantly explained that it wouldn't do to have a Potter sorted into House Slytherin and that it would reflect poorly on William so, it was with much regret that they decided it best if Harry no longer bore the Potter name.

It took Harry a moment to realize that he had been disowned.

"Who will pay for my schooling?" He'd asked quietly, still in shock.

His mother and father averted their eyes, both looking to Albus Dumbledore for support and guidance. He sat, behind his grand desk full of wondrous things and flatly explained that it would be best for all if Harry left Hogwarts all together.

Without even a chance to say goodbye to his new friends, Harry was in the Floo and in a room at the Leaky Cauldron before he could blink, without even a goodbye to his parents.

For hours, Harry sat in Room 11 staring blankly at his wall. He was just beginning to stir when the door was blasted open and a slightly drunk Sirius Black stood at his door, eyes full of a black rage that Harry had never seen before.

"C'mon 'Arry…you're – you're – coming with me. We're goin ta Norway. Yer…yer goin to Durmstrang and…screw the Potters!"

After this declaration, Sirius Black grabbed Harry's still packed belongings and gathered Harry under his arm, strolling drunkenly to the door and out of England forever.

He formally adopted Harry that same day and by the next, Harry was fully enrolled in the cold, mountainous school of Durmstrang.

Forever estranged from his family. Or, so he believed.

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**I hope you enjoyed this first chapter. Please review and let me know what you think.**

**This is really just an introduction to Harry's life, the real fun begins next!**


	2. Harry Black

**Disclaimer: See chapter one. **

**I would like to say a quick and very heartfelt thank you to everyone who took the time to read, review, and favorite/follow my story. It is very much appreciated and inspiring. **

**I hope everyone enjoys this chapter. Again, we're still building so bear with me. **

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**Chapter Two**

**- Harry Black -**

Harry Black floated over a small Quidditch Pitch, his untamable black hair whipping in the fierce Norwegian wind. Wearing thick, weather-resistant goggles, the 16 year old Wizard sat unnaturally still under the darkening sky, buffeted by a wind that seemed intent on moving him, oblivious to the gathering rain clouds or perhaps just unconcerned for them. It was his first day of summer, having left 5th year gladly behind just yesterday and yet he did not show the exuberance of most students on a much anticipated break.

In his gloved left hand was an article from _The Rising Sun_, their version of _The Daily Prophet_, its large, flashing headline announced the return of the Dark Lord and the imminent war on the horizon. Harry frowned, an expression that was rarely seen on his expressive face. He had been anticipating this day for quite some time, ever since he'd seen that first article come out about his twin brother's escapades during First Year. It was obvious to Harry and his Godfather Sirius that the story the _Prophet_ had reported lacked more than a few important details, and the _Rising Sun _less than that. It was even more obvious to Sirius, after speaking with some of his _less than_ reputable clients, that things were stirring. Dark things.

Not content to simply wait and watch, Sirius decided, in a rare moment of sobering maturity, that it would be best if he trained Harry outside of the things he learned at Durmstrang (which were many and varied to be sure). He wasn't positive, but his gut instinct told him that the best thing he could do as Harry's adoptive father would be to train his son as much as he possibly could. Sirius was a man of instinct; it had not failed him yet.

After his Third Year at Durmstrang, and the escape of Peter Pettigrew from Azkaban, Sirius realized that Harry's abilities were growing far beyond his own ability to teach and that, with the way things were looking and the whispers that were stirring, it would be in his Harry's best interest to hire a tutor.

Unfortunately for Sirius Black, there were very few people whose abilities he had any faith in and even fewer that he trusted with the future of his Godson. It wasn't until a dark and stormy night, while Harry was away at school that the perfect candidate came to mind; or rather, the perfect candidate's owl swooped into his study, requesting that he hunt down a rare strain of belladonna. Sirius had smiled rather wolfishly and decided to visit this client with a new price in mind.

To say that Severus Snape was shocked would be an understatement. Reluctant as he had been to request Sirius Black's services, it was well known that Black was the best Hunter in the game and so, with much reluctance he had sent his owl off. He hadn't expected or _wanted_ a personal visit and after hearing the price for his services, Severus very adamantly (and reasonable of course) refused.

"Absolutely not, Black. Now leave."

"Severus, please." Sirius muttered, honest and plaintive.

Severus had stopped; hand still on the doorknob, frozen for just a moment.

"You have twenty minutes, Black. Convince me."

And so it was that Harry Black had come home for winter hols to find Severus Snape brooding in their sitting room, a roaring fire highlighting the tension in his godfather's face as he forced a smile. From that moment onward, Harry spent every other night at Spinsters End, being tutored by the irascible Severus Snape.

And now, as Harry hovered over the Quidditch Pitch of his and Sirius' home, he could not help but think it was the best choice Sirius had ever made in his life, aside from adopting Harry that is. Severus Snape was a man of many talents and great knowledge and one hell of a task master. He'd spent an entire week teaching and berating Harry on the proper way to grip one's wand to ensure maximum utility. It had been quite a shock to Harry to learn he'd been holding his wand wrong and even more shocking when the simple change yielded noticeable results.

Without warning, Harry dropped into a steep dive, effortlessly maneuvering his broom and pulling out at the last minute. Even against the wind, Harry maintained excellent control of his broom and the wicked smile that graced his face as he jumped off his broom left no doubt that he was well aware of his control.

"Thought you might stay up there all day, kiddo." Sirius said as Harry landed. He was standing on the back porch of their home, a quaint looking abode from the outside, and nestled high in the mountains on a lonely plateau.

Harry grinned and took off his goggles, his vibrant emerald eyes shining in the light of the rising sun. He'd been flying for hours before dawn and his legs ached.

"I would have, if it weren't for my muscles. I'm getting old, Sirius…" Harry said with mock severity as he stretched. Sirius grinned and, without warning, punched Harry hard in the gut. Doubling over, Harry gasped and glared at the rapidly retreating back of his godfather. With a growl, Harry took off after him, barreling into the house at breakneck speed, ignoring the fading pain in his stomach.

Though quaint and homey looking from the outside, inside, the house boasted a large sitting room, dining room, six bedrooms, five and a half bathrooms, a study, a library and a solarium, which Harry learned was just a room that women like to retire to when they wished to talk to about their husbands.

Following the sounds of his godfather's feet, he ran straight into the study and found Severus glaring at a large black dog.

"Cheater," Harry muttered at the grim. Sirius 'woofed' back at him, tail wagging animatedly as he stared from Harry to Severus and back again. Without warning, he lunged forward, licking Severus full in the face before disappearing again with a happy howl.

"You ungrateful, _disgusting_ mutt!" Severus ground out, wiping furiously at his face.

Harry laughed briefly before the heated glare sent his way cut it off.

"Ahem…hello, Sir. I wasn't expecting you today." Harry said, carefully setting his Firebolt down on the back of a dark gold chaise. The entire room was tastefully done in dark gold, navy blue and grey with large, eastern facing floor to ceiling windows which provided an excellent view of the mountain ridge when the navy blue curtains were open.

"No, and I am not here for a lesson. As soon as that mongrel returns I can tell you why I am here."

Harry nodded, pulling off his dark blue Quidditch gloves and removing his black cloak. Underneath he wore thick black pants and a long-sleeve white thermal, close fitting enough to show the toned muscles underneath.

At the age of 16, Harry Black had grown into a fine young man. Tall, the young man had filled out nicely over the years, though still thin in the manner of most seekers, he was lithe and graceful. His hair was just as unruly as it had been when he was a child, and so he preferred to keep it short. He wore thin glasses, sleek and modern, that fit his face perfectly and did nothing to diminish the brilliancy of his eyes. Attractive did not quite begin to describe the former Potter, and though he spent most of his time in a mountainous school that received very little sunlight, Harry's skin was still a nice bronze that hinted at hours spent under the sun.

More than his looks however, it was his bearing that immediately drew the eye to Harry Black. Confident without being cocky, he walked in the manner of one who was sure of their skills and the limits of them as well. A fact that far too many learned far too late.

Harry called for his house elf, one of two that worked on their property, and requested breakfast be brought to the study and to bring an extra setting. After the smiling elf disappeared, Harry turned to his mentor and grinned. The dour man was still rubbing at his face and muttering darkly about his godfather. Harry idly wondered if the two would ever stop arguing, though a part of him believed they wouldn't know how to interact with each other if they _didn't_.

Finally Sirius reappeared, freshly showered and wearing a pair of dark muggle jeans and a long sleeve grey t-shirt. His shaggy black hair glistened, still damp, leaving wet patches where it rested on his shoulders. Hands shoved in his pockets and practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, Sirius still looked like a man in his twenties, rather than his closely approaching forties. If you were to let Severus tell it, he still acted like an 'impudent teenager jacked up on hormones', an expression Harry found hilariously apt.

"So, what brings you to our dark and gloomy parts, Severus?" Sirius asked as he made his way to the chaise. He sat down, throwing both legs up and stretching back, settling and giving Severus an expectant and somewhat nervous look. "Everything…aright?" Sirius had seen the paper, knew what had happened at the British Ministry for Magic. He was not asking about that, however.

Severus sneered and sat down on the opposite sofa. His high-necked robes, tight-fitting in the fashion of a Potions Master, looked at least as uncomfortable as his straight-backed posture, but Harry had learned that Severus hated slouching almost as much as he hated James Potter.

"No everything is not _alright_, Black, else I wouldn't be here. Things have…heated up, as you would say." He sighed, the sneer leaving his face. Harry thought he noticed a minute drop in the Potions Master's shoulders, an alarming break in etiquette that had Harry sitting straight and alert beside him.

"He's reactivated the Order."

Sirius's sharp inhalation was the only sound in the room. Harry sat still as a statue, knowing there was more and dreading it. His stomach tightened as he realized that this was the moment. This was the moment which would mark the beginning of an end. He knew not which end, but he felt every force in the universe pulling him towards _an_ end.

"He's got the Potter brat running a student affiliate, _unofficially_, of course." Severus growled, "You are aware of the abysmal Defense Professors the students have been subjected to, and instead of hiring someone up to par, the fool continues to let them _teach_ each other." Severus snorted indelicately, his opinion of that quite clear.

"Additionally…I have been…recalled to the Dark Lord's services." His tone was very matter-of-fact, but his eyes were dark and his lips were tight and Harry knew that his mentor was frightened.

Sirius sat up slowly, hands coming to rest on his knees as he eyed Severus seriously.

"And what plans does Dumbledore have for you?"

Severus stared at Sirius for a long moment, his face carefully blank. "To continue as I was."

Sirius cursed, long and fluently. Standing up abruptly, he began to pace, one hand tugging at his hair. He stopped just as suddenly as he began, eyeing Severus with a look that was equal parts rebellion and resignation.

"I don't like it."

Severus let loose a laugh that sounded more like a bark; Harry imagined Padfoot would have been proud if he wasn't pulling out his hair.

"Then you can imagine my enthusiasm, Black." Severus muttered darkly. With a flick and swirl of his wand hand, Severus summoned a bottle of scotch and three glasses. He watched the bottle pour itself out, giving Harry the glass with the least amount. Harry snorted, but accepted the drink nonetheless. His mind was racing, and even this small amount of alcohol would help. If nothing else, the burn of it racing down his throat was a pleasant distraction.

His godfather was pacing again, and Harry had to wonder what part of this unpleasant news bothered him most. It was expected that Dumbledore would call his army together once more; war times were upon them after all. But Harry had a sneaking suspicion that Sirius was more than a little miffed at the idea of Severus playing the double agent again. Harry was as well, but that too was to be expected.

Setting his empty glass on the coffee table, Harry stared at its ivory legs before turning to his mentor and asking the only question that would bring Severus to their home to give an answer.

"What will we do about my training, Sir?"

Sirius sighed and sat down, staring at Severus intently. His mouth was drawn into a set frown and his dark eyes glittered with displeasure. They all knew the answer, but it had to be said.

Severus stared at Sirius for a moment before turning to Harry, his eyes glittering with an emotion Harry could not name.

"It will be too dangerous to continue the training in my home, and nigh impossible for me to come to you with the kind of regularity that your training requires. So," he paused, frowning briefly before forging ahead, "the only way we can continue…is if you were to join me at Hogwarts."

Silence descended upon them like a heavy winter cloak, stifling in the heat of summer. Harry closed his eyes briefly, the words only confirming what his mind already knew. He slouched back, ignoring Severus' mild glare and stared at his godfather who looked about as unhappy as he felt.

It was a testament to the seriousness of the matter however, that Sirius did not immediately protest. Or perhaps it was just the knowledge of the inevitable coming to fruition.

Severus poured himself another shot and slammed it back without batting an eyelash.

"Well," Harry murmured, breaking the silence. "We've been preparing for this day since you started training me, Sir. It's just…a little sooner than we thought." He gave a one-armed shrug, pouring himself another shot before either adult could protest. "We still have time. It will be a while yet before Voldemort has the manpower he'll need to take on Dumbledore. That still gives us the time we'll need."

Severus sneered again. "As heartening as that sounds, Harry, the reality of what we're – of what _you're_ – proposing to do will require more time than any of us realize. Dumbledore and the Dark Lord have been at this game much longer than any of us, they are playing a game that we are not familiar with, a game we aren't even _players_ in. "

Harry nodded grimly, determination setting in and turning his eyes as hard as emerald flint. "And it's the greatest advantage we have. They don't consider us a threat; at most we are simply pawns. They'll be too focused on each other to pay us any attention until it is too late."

Severus grimaced, "and if you fail?"

Harry stared at Severus unblinking, shoulders straight and head held high, proud and unbendable.

"If I fail – and I won't – then we'd better hope that we're all wrong…we'd better hope that William Potter really _is_ the Boy-Who-Lived and that Dumbledore has done a hell of a lot better training him then we've been led to believe." His voice was low and determined and his eyes never faltered, locked with Severus'.

Severus stared into those eyes a moment longer, Lily's eyes with James' fire, tempered and honed by Sirius Black and one Severus Snape. He nodded once and tossed back another shot.

Sirius sighed heavily and stood, staring at Severus and Harry in turn. With one final shake of his head, the man let out a sharp bark of laughter and rolled his shoulders.

"I'll pack then. Tomorrow, we'll head to No. 12." He sighed again, this time in disgust. "I can only imagine how happy Mother will be at my return."

Taking his glass and filling it to the brim, Sirius walked out of the room. Harry watched him, worry and guilt niggling in the back of his mind.

"Don't." Severus said sharply, watching him carefully. "Black has demons, Harry. We all do. He was going to have to return to England sooner or later, and he knew it. Don't worry about Black; the man is better at coping than anyone I've met, even if he is a disgrace." The last was said without any real heat, and Harry knew that despite everything between them, Severus grudgingly respected Sirius Black.

Harry sighed, nodding once. Recognizing a fact was one thing, but it didn't help to alleviate the small piece of his heart that felt guilty for all the ties Sirius had broken on his behalf. And now they were to return.

Severus was right however; they all had demons and seemed the time had come for them to face them.

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**Next chapter: The Return of the Prodigal Sons. **


	3. Draco Lucius Malfoy

**Thank you again for all of the wonderful reviews! I love to read every single one of them. **

**I know this chapter was supposed to be about Harry/Sirius' return, but Draco sort of butted his way through first. **

**I know some people are wondering about Remus and Sirius, but it will be revealed soon! Though some people have already rightly guessed, its not really a big secret or anything, I just prefer to tease it out of the story rather than tell. A lot of details are like that, actually. **

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**Chapter Three**

**Draco Lucius Malfoy**

**-x-x-x-x-x-**

Draco Lucius Malfoy was a very smart wizard. Privileged? Yes. Spoiled? Undoubtedly. Intelligent? Inarguably.

Besides intelligence, the young Malfoy heir was also blessed with an uncanny wit and cleverness, which often proved unfortunate for others and him.

Being intelligent, Draco Malfoy was sure of two things as he joined his mother for tea, six days after his 5th term of Hogwarts had drawn to an end: firstly, with his father in prison, Draco would no doubt become one of the Dark Lord's first retribution targets. Secondly, Draco had no desire to fulfill any wishes of the Dark Lord, and would therefore need to protect his family by any means necessary.

The first was inevitable. The second needed planning.

His first instinct of course, was to enlist the help of his Godfather, Severus.

He quickly nixed that plan. Severus, while being a source of comfort and familiarity inside the walls of Hogwarts, was ultimately an unknown. Draco was almost positive that the man was a spy for Albus Dumbledore, but he could just as easily be a spy for the Dark Lord. Draco didn't want to hand his family over to another master, didn't want to participate as just some soldier in this timeless war. He wanted – he wanted – the Malfoy heir sat frozen. He had no idea what he wanted. Rather, he couldn't quite articulate the writhing bundle of emotion within him that grew with each passing day and urged him to _act_, the same bundle of emotion that cried out a demand that had no equivalent in English.

He glanced at his mother, pale and withdrawn beside him, sky blue eyes vacant and dark. She had taken the news of Lucius' imprisonment hard. Draco could hardly remember a time when his parents were not together. Even in the early days of the Dark Lord's rise, they raided together, never far from one another in the midst of the violence of the night.

But things had subtly begun to change with the Dark Lord's rise. Draco's father became anxious and his mother worried. They weren't ready for a return of the Dark Lord, weren't desirous of it in the least. Not with Draco. Not with the Dark Lord's insanity so rampant. There resembled in him nothing of the charismatic man they had once followed; nothing except the power of course, wild and tainted with the same madness that fevered his gaze. He had forgotten the promises he'd made to all of the purebloods and those who followed the old ways. Instead, he was bent on the complete destruction of William Potter and Albus Dumbledore.

Those who remembered the promises of a young Lord on the rise stirred with the restlessness of the rebellious. The Malfoy's were among the first and strongest to unofficially and quietly withdraw their support. It was subtle and had it not been for the incident in the Department of Mysteries, the Malfoy's could have slipped away quite easily; hiding beneath wards so ancient and powerful even the Gods would have to ask for entrance.

Now, however, the fate of the family rested on Draco. He would not admit it but he was frightened. Terrified would be more apt.

There was no stopping the Dark Lord. Not now, not after this past incident with the ministry. He'd taken on Dumbledore and walked away intact. He'd lost the prophecy but he'd also claimed to have seen the limits of Dumbledore's power and that of William Potter too. He was no longer wary of the Light Side.

Draco sat stiffly in his chair, eyes trained on the pristine gardens that surrounded them, just beyond the glass of the east wall. They were sat in his mother's Solarium, one of few rooms in their Manor that was truly their own. His mother was the only one who could open these doors, and the ward that guarded them had been set by Draco's great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandmother. Voldemort didn't care to waste any energy resetting the wards of Malfoy Manor; there were too many powerful, layered networks of spells to get through.

Besides, with most of the warded rooms in the East Wing, including Draco and his mother's bedrooms, it worked out in the Dark Lord's favor. As soon as Voldemort had…moved in, Draco and his mother had been politely shoved into the East Wing and abruptly ordered to remain. It was the strangest feeling, to be a prisoner in your own home and never see your jailer.

Though they were lucky enough to be stuck in a section of their home that was virtually inaccessible to anyone else, they were still confined to their Wing. Watched around the clock by two Death Eaters who summoned them to the arched entrance to their Wing 3 times a day, just to be sure they were still there. They were free, of course, to venture anywhere they chose within the manor or its grounds. But it was overrun with Death Eaters, many of whom were ex-prisoners. Draco and his mother had no desire to leave their Wing to be quite honest.

It was the worst kind of indignity to suffer, but Draco and his mother bore it gracefully. Six days in, it was all they could do. There was no use in trying to escape at any rate. They couldn't – wouldn't – go underground until Lucius was with them. And Draco didn't feel right putting his friends in any danger, not that there were many he could trust at this point. None but Blaise and his mother really, and Draco knew they were fighting to stay neutral themselves. Those purebloods who, like the Malfoy's were thinking of 'turning coat' had gone underground once more, hiding within the ranks once more once Lucius was imprisoned. It was a testament to the Dark Lord's fury with the elder Malfoy that he still resided in Azkaban.

Draco didn't know what to do. He needed more time and help. But there was no one he could trust.

_There's always Harry…_his mind supplied softly. Draco sighed, eyes closing as he sipped his tea. _There _is always_ Harry,_ he thought, rather angrily.

Harry Black, formerly known as Harry Potter. The kid who disappeared the morning after they'd formed their friendship. Who didn't return to their lives until three months down the line in the form of a snowy owl and a heartfelt apology and explanation. Draco had felt such anger on the other boy's behalf and they'd all made promises to keep in touch.

They soon learned however, that promises of that nature are easier made than kept. With everything that tended to happen at Hogwarts each year, and Harry's own studies, they could do no more than exchange two or three letters a year. Unconsciously on both their parts, the letters were always pages long, making up for the lack in quantity with quality.

Draco was more than disappointed to learn that Harry would not be travelling with the rest of the boys during the TriWizard Tournament, he was too young to enter for one thing, and even if he wasn't, Harry had no desire to see his former family.

Draco was under no illusions as to his own preferences, he'd known since the sight of a naked Blaise in their 2nd year had sent him into a raging bout of hormones. But he also didn't harbor any illusions about Harry's preferences. He'd told him, in quite imaginative detail how he'd lost his virginity at the end of 3rd year, to a blonde with green eyes and the largest breasts in her year (which was 5th, apparently). And every encounter thereafter had involved women of various cup sizes. Draco had, hesitantly outlined his first experience with sex and when Harry didn't seem at all bothered by his preference for men, Draco shared his own rather risqué and detailed exploits around the various Hogwarts broomclosets and forgotten bedrooms. (Honestly, Draco believed Hogwarts might have doubled as a brothel at one point, what with the amount of bedrooms he 'stumbled' across during his years there).

Still, Draco could only imagine and curse the lucky bints who'd had the pleasure of sleeping with Harry. It was the strangest thing, to have a crush on someone you'd only met once, and exchanged letters with infrequently (even if those letters were quite lengthy and full of secrets and details that only those truly comfortable with one another share). He hadn't seen Harry since they were 11 and didn't dare ask him for a picture. There was one picture Draco had seen from _The Rising Sun_, highlighting the fierce competition between Viktor Krum and Harry Black. Harry had been turned away from the camera astride his broom, focused on finding the snitch. Still, even turned away, Draco could tell he was tall and lean, muscular without being bulky. His hair was still a messy whirlwind of wayward locks, but it looked darker and longer. He turned in a tight circle in the picture, before shooting out of the frame. He had amazing control. According to the paper.

He remembered vibrant green eyes and messy dark brown hair. A strong face, with a square jawline and sturdy nose. His hands, from what Draco could see in the picture, were quite large for his size but he was tall, so perhaps not. He had at least two, maybe three inches on Draco. He shivered.

The letters that they exchanged never failed to lighten Draco's heart. To inspire him to…he didn't know _what_ exactly, but speaking to Harry was like taking a drug. Infrequently, but all the more potent for it, it was always exhilarating to follow the controlled sloppiness of his writing and imagine the proud voice the words hinted at. To listen to his philosophy on magic both light and dark, his musings on Wizarding history and the reason for the never-ending war between light and dark. Draco was so ecstatic to speak with someone who thought about the world, much as he did. And who could do so articulately, even if the handwriting was a little messy. It was a hint of the imperfect in what Draco wanted to believe was a perfect man and it was exhilarating. There was power in his letters. Power that Draco could not really understand but _felt_. Harry was…hope, in a way that Draco could not and _would_ not trust. He had a crush. There was nothing there that meant he could trust the other boy with his family's life.

"Draco," his mother whispered softly. Draco jumped, startled out of his imaginings and forcefully brought back to the real world. His face flamed with embarrassment. _Really, Draco? Fantasizing in the middle of a crisis? You're losing it._

"Draco, have you heard from Severus?"

Draco sighed and shook his head in the negative. "No, Mother. No one has from what I can gather."

Narcissa pursed her lips, eyes sliding back out of focus as she stared into their garden. Two robed Death Eaters walked by, the silencing charms around the Solarium robbing them of the laughter they clearly expressed. Draco grimaced. The Carrow Twins. They were revolting.

He called for a house elf who promptly cleared away their tea trays and replaced them with a tray filled with strawberries, whipped cream and chocolate. His mother's favorite. She brightened a little, reaching out for a plump red strawberry, dipping in the chocolate with clear eyes.

"Your birthday is coming up soon, Draco."

"I know, Mother. I'll have Missy grab some of that chocolate cake from that bakery in Paris. The one – father – took us to…last year." He trailed off. He hadn't meant to bring up his father. Hadn't meant to cause that look of pain and loss in his Mother's eyes. But she shook it off, and looked at him, eyes once more clear.

"Yes. That will be nice, Draco. That will be lovely."

He smiled and grabbed his mother's hand, squeezing it tightly and relishing in the sudden rush of warmth and strength when she gripped his even tighter. If his mother were beginning to…awaken, for lack of better word, then maybe he wouldn't have to figure this all out on his own. Maybe he and his mother could figure out a way to rescue Father and then…he allowed his thoughts to flow as they willed and continue to grip his mother's hand, eventually settling on thoughts of green eyes.

**-x-x-x-x-x-**

_Weeks Later – July, 15__th_

Draco sat alone in his room, shivering in the middle of his bed. He was paler than usual and beneath his eyes rested small dark patches. His hair was limp and his black robes hung a little loosely around his figure. He'd been in a state of shock and worry for almost three weeks and it had taken its toll. He was surrounded by books; thick tomes, short diaries, rustling books of a dubious nature and even one or two that walked across the room impatiently.

He looked haggard and worn and had looked this way ever since the Dark Lord had called him to his study weeks ago. He'd been ordered to complete two seemingly impossible tasks by the end of his 6th year, or be forced to watch the torture and murder of his family, before suffering his own. Without so much as a by your leave, he'd then been escorted from what had once been his Father's study, and still bore several horrified portraits of his ancestors.

The door to his room opened and his mother strode in. She looked better than she had in a long time. Watching your son deteriorate before your eyes had a nice way of restoring fire in a mother.

She was carrying a tray of Draco's favorite breakfast foods, her tight grip the only indication that she was anything but in control.

"It's time to eat, Draco." She said in a tone that brooked no argument.

Draco sighed but did not attempt to argue. He cleared a spot on the bed for her with a simple wave of his hand and frowned. That had taken more effort than usual. His mother glared at him, noticing the frown.

"If you would _eat _more, a simple charm won't tire you out."

Draco chuckled softly and grabbed a butter croissant. "I'm not tired, Mother. In fact, I'm feeling better than I have in weeks."

His mother eyed him critically over a steaming cup of tea, "really?"

"Yes. I've figured part of it out," he took another bite, appetite suddenly returning as he revealed his plan to his mother. "…I've just got to fix them, it's perfect!"

Narcissa sighed and nodded, shoulders relaxing marginally. She had every faith in her son, he was intelligent and powerful. Still, she feared for him. Draco was many things…but a murderer was not one of them. He was not breed as she and her husband had been, and perhaps it was wrong of them to shield him from so much of the darker aspects of their world, but Narcissa did not regret it. It was with pride that she watched her son now, pride and worry of course, knowing that he was not a murderer.

They finished breakfast and it was Draco's turn to eye his mother critically.

"What is it, Mother? I know that look…"

Narcissa smiled, catching Draco with her beauty. His mother was truly timeless. There were times when Draco found himself astonished that she was _his_ mother.

"I have gotten a hold of Severus." She calmly stated.

Draco's eyes widened, mouth open in shock.

"When?"

"Yesterday evening. He slipped a note in the Chatterbox." She sounded relieved, oblivious to Draco's growing anxiety.

"What did you tell him?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

Narcissa looked at Draco, finally noticing the change in his demeanor. She frowned. "What is it Draco? Severus is trustworthy. He is your godfather."

"He's a spy, mother. And a damned good one." He snapped, voice condescending and tight.

"The best." Narcissa snapped back. She placed a hand on Draco's shoulder, and it was not comforting. "He is a man who has risked his life for this family more times than is rightly deserved and I _will not_ have you questioning his honor, Draco Lucius Malfoy. Do you understand?"

Draco shivered. He had only heard that tone of voice once before, and it was the day she'd given Lucius an ultimatum, one that could have ended in the dissolving of their Bond. Unheard of, but Narcissa Black had been beyond serious. As she was now, staring into his eyes with that same look of fierce anger, affront and determination.

"Yes, Mother…I just – "

"Just nothing Draco." She relaxed her hand on his shoulder, pulling him close enough to lay a soft kiss on his check. "I understand your hesitancy, Draco. There are many things you do not know and given what you _do_ know, I am glad that you are smart enough to show such hesitancy, especially where your Godfather is concerned. However, I need you to trust me when I say we can trust Severus. These are dangerous times, and they grow more so by the day …there is no one who you can trust outside of your father and me, _but Severus_."

Draco nodded slowly, relaxing. He trusted his mother and father without question and knew that they were far more discerning in choosing their inner circle than even he. If they trusted Severus, then Draco trusted Severus. Still, a small part of him hoped that trusting Severus didn't mean they ended up with a new 'Master'. He knew the demands that Albus Dumbledore made of Severus, and Draco didn't like it one bit. What was the point of defecting, honestly, if they were just going to find themselves shackled to another madman who didn't value lives?

Narcissa rubbed his head, and Draco's eyes closed contentedly. He hadn't had his head rubbed since he was a child.

"We're to go to his house tonight."

Draco's head snapped up in surprise, "we're going to…_how_?" He asked incredulously. The Dark Lord had guards on every entrance to the Manor, even those underground. He had monitor wards up as well, Draco was sure, and who knew what else. And while He didn't seem all too worried about the Malfoy's, Draco didn't believe for one second that he wasn't aware of their location at all time.

Narcissa smirked, a near perfect imitation of Lucius' own, or perhaps he imitated his wife.

"We're Malfoy's, Draco. We cannot be held prisoner in our own home." She sniffed in disdain, anger and pride warring in her clear blue eyes. "We'll see Severus tonight…well we'll be leaving early morning. Be ready by 2 a.m Draco."

Still in shock, Draco nodded.

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**I hope this was enjoyed as much as the other chapters, thanks for reading. **


	4. An Unbreakable Vow

**Author's Note:** I apologize for the long wait everyone, I hope you enjoy this chapter, its a little longer than the others...my way of saying I'm very sorry for life interrupting my fiction. :]

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**Chapter Four**

**An Unbreakable Vow **

**-x-x-x-x-x-**

Harry stood in complete darkness, body still but senses alert. He was fully ensconced within his magic, an invisible shield of pure energy covering every inch of his body. It would not stop death, or torture, but mild curses and jinxes would be repealed. He had been practicing this particular body shield for nearly seven months, hoping to achieve the sort of second-hand application which would be necessary in battle. As it stood, Harry still felt it took far too much concentration to maintain, and while it was useful, avoiding minor hexes and jinxes wasn't worth the trouble if he couldn't maintain it without a thought.

With a sigh, Harry slowly began drawing his magic in. Gently, as if he were handling a rare and volatile potion, he pulled and tugged. In his mind, he could see his magic, a wild swirling mist of green and gold that wanted to be free, free, _free_!

With a grunt, Harry gave one final, insistent tug and reined it all in. Opening his eyes, he found Severus standing before him in the basement of Grimmauld Place with a sneer.

"Don't say it, sir." Harry said tiredly, slumping as he relaxed into a chair Snape kindly conjured. It had a high back, so slouching was a bit more uncomfortable than Harry would have liked but his legs were shaking and his arms were beginning to join them.

"You mustn't _fight_ for Mastery, Harry. You must _earn _it."

Harry grunted it, dropping his head in his hands. "I _hear_ you, sir. But…"

Severus sighed and conjured himself a chair. They had turned the basement into a training ground, leaving the kitchen as it was but using all other space as they saw fit. The result was a large clear space filled with magical dummies that were preset with specific curses and defensive spells. The walls were also bobby trapped and set with spells that Severus had invented himself. Harry was having a hell of a time defeating the ceiling and it was quite bruising to his ego.

"But you have no true understanding of the concept." Severus finished. "You lack…finesse, Mr. Black. Too much of Sirius in you, I should say. The power is there, in abundance I might add, but you do not want to Master it, you want to _control_ it and it is not something to be controlled."

"It isn't that!" Harry snapped. Sighing he ran a hand through his hair and leaned back in his chair, glaring up at the ceiling. Severus watched him, ignoring the outburst, patiently waiting for more. "I…can't explain it." Harry said hoarsely. "It's like…my magic is…fighting me. It's…calling for _freedom_ and it…I _have_ to take control. I have to…wrestle with it to make it do my bidding. It's frightening sometimes but…it only happens when I'm trying to cast without my wand…"

Severus frowned, perplexed despite himself. He himself had never encountered such trouble when he began to Master his own magic. As far as he knew, the most trouble wizards and witches had when beginning the long and arduous road of wandless magic, was actually accessing their magical core and pulling their magic out. From there, it was really quite easy to direct your magic to do your bidding. Of course it took years and years to be able to maintain the connection to your core and use your magic to do more than just make pretty sparkles without draining yourself completely…but Severus had never heard of anyone having to _fight_ for Mastery.

"We'll continue this later, Harry. For now, get cleaned up. Our guests arrive tonight."

Sighing tiredly, Harry agreed and slowly made his way up the three flights of stairs to his room in Grimmauld Place. It had taken days of good, hard cleaning to make the place livable again, and it had taken its toll on Sirius. He was out, more often than not, and Harry was worried about him. It was hard, Harry knew, being in the same house he'd grown up to hate and it didn't help that his mother's portrait was such a _hag_. Not to mention Kreacher, the evil little house elf with an unnatural obsession with the Black Family. It was one thing to be loyal, but this house elf took it to another level entirely. Harry was positive the little creature had gone mad all alone in such a grim place. Harry imagined he would have too, with only that mad portrait for company. Still, Sirius _was_ Master of the house and the disrespect Kreacher showed him was blatant and downright eerie. Of course, Sirius wasn't the _nicest _master, if Harry were to be completely honest. But it was hard to be nice to such a wretched creature.

He often wondered what would happen when, not if, Sirius ran into Remus again and guilt wrenched his heart. Their parting had been full of so much anger and harsh words had been spoken. Remus hadn't agreed with the Potter's decision but he hadn't spoken out against it either. And since he wasn't willing to leave William without at least one adult who didn't cater to his every whim, he had let Sirius and Harry go.

Harry often wondered over the years if the pair would ever work their problems out but…Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. It was a mess, he was a mess. Hours of training this morning, the work it took to maintain the connection to his core…he was tired. In more ways than one. And the day was not over yet.

The Malfoy's would be arriving tonight, or rather early in the morning. Harry was giddy with excitement and apprehension. He had not seen Draco in years and he would be lying if he said he wasn't excited to see one of his very first friends again. He had never made quite the same connection with the other boys at Durmstrang, like he had with Blaise and Draco. There was something special about the two that made Harry feel as if he had found _true_ friends. It was something the naturally suspicious and reticent young man cherished. Having kept in touch with both boys over the years only served to strengthen that feeling of connection and…there was something about Draco. The way he wrote, the ideas and theories that he espoused…he was one of the few people who could keep up with Harry, indeed he even _lost_ Harry sometimes and it was exhilarating.

Harry couldn't wait to meet him again. He wanted to train with Draco, test his abilities and see if he was as good at the practical aspects of magic as was with the theoretical. Mostly, though, he just wanted someone else to talk to.

Grabbing a simple pair of black jeans and white tee shirt, Harry made his way to the bathroom and began undressing. Naked, he admired his figure for a moment, taking in the various scars he'd acquire from Quidditch and training over the years. There was a long thin scar that reached from the top of his left collarbone diagonally across to this right nipple that he'd received in training. Another scar, perfectly snitch shaped, he received when his first game against Viktor Krum, slamming to the ground after a dangerous dive and capturing the snitch between his body and his hand (which broke, of course). It was right under his left ribs, and was matched by another scar on the right side, this one from training. It was the size of a galleon and looked like a burn mark. Harry had been careless that day and had refused to have the mark healed, wanting the reminder for himself. Most of his scars were like that, there for their history and to be a lesson. A scar was unsightly but it was a testament to the fact that he was _not_ all powerful and mistakes were costly.

Eyeing himself, Harry idly wondered if Draco would find him attractive. Harry blushed lightly and turned away from the mirror.

"Get a grip, Harry. They're coming here for your help, not so you can follow through with any fantasies." He muttered as he turned on the faucet. Immediately, hot water poured out and the bathroom began to steam up. Harry gratefully stepped under the hot spray; muscles relaxing as the hot water worked its magic. He rolled his shoulders, taking a moment to simply stand under the water and enjoy the brief respite.

He'd wondered for years now what it would be like to be with another boy. Reading Draco's rather erotic blow by blow of his own accounts…Harry couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to feel another man beneath him, to feel another muscled body, hard as his own and less fragile, yet still easy to maneuver and pliable. He imagined, far too often, a grown up Draco all platinum and silver and lithe and toned, wiggling beneath him and crying out in throaty ecstasy as Harry claimed him over and over and over again.

Harry shuddered and gasped, opening his eyes wide and turning the water to cold. It was one thing to fantasize while he was locked away in the cold mountains of Durmstrang, quite another thing entirely to do so hours away from meeting the object of his fantasies. Harry didn't question why Draco was the only boy he'd ever fantasized about. He knew why. Draco fascinated him. Their letters were like an escape for Harry, the one thing that served to distract him from constant thoughts of war and training and school, and no one female or male alike had ever been able to do that. And Harry hadn't even seen the other boy in years. It was maddening.

_But that changes tonight. _

Quickly washing, Harry finished his shower and dressed. Casting a quick tempus, he was startled to realize it was nearly 11 pm.

They were to meet in the drawing room, away from Walburga and in one of the most heavily warded rooms in the house. It had once been quite beautiful and Harry and Severus and Sirius had worked hard to make it presentable. They'd restored the wallpaper and carpet and gotten rid of the cobwebs and clutter. Cleaned the large bay windows and dusted off the bookshelves. They'd restored the chairs and sofa and cleaned out the fireplace. They'd even cleaned the two ornate glass cabinets that sat on either side of the fireplace, though they were still filled with stuff Sirius simply called 'junk'. It would be a while yet before they had the time to go through any of that.

Harry grabbed a book at random and settled into his favorite armchair. Idly lighting the fire, he settled in for a long read. Before he knew it, he was fast asleep.

**-x-x-x-x-x-**

"Well, he certainly is handsome."

A snort. "Handsome and unruly. He is a headache, Narcissa."

"Really? I've never heard such fondness in your voice before Severus, not even about dear Draco." This was said with a teasing lilt. A throat was cleared and more grumbling issued forth.

Harry's eyes snapped open and he let loose a grunt of surprise as he found himself the focus of four pairs of eyes.

"Nice of you to join us, pup." Sirius said with a wide grin. He appeared to be sober, for the most part. He was wearing his favorite leather jacket and a pair of blue jeans, oddly enough he was not wearing a shirt. Standing before him was Severus in his customary high-necked robes, and who could only be Narcissa and Draco Malfoy. Harry swallowed. Hard. They were _beautiful_.

Narcissa could have been Athena reincarnate, so perfect was she. And Draco…Harry averted his eyes and willed himself _not_ to blush. _I don't think men should be that beautiful. There has to be a law against it_. Draco was more than anything Harry could have imagined. Tall, though not as tall as Harry, he was all sharp features and beautiful angles. The kind of face that sculptors dreamed about and feared, for how could you possible capture such beauty? Harry swallowed again and removed his glasses under the pretense of cleaning. He didn't think he wanted to be able to see clearly at the moment.

"Now that Harry has decided to join us," Severus said, "we may begin."

Harry took his time cleaning his glasses while every settled into various seats. Somehow, Draco ended up beside him.

"Hello, Harry." He said. His voice was melodic, deep but not the same booming baritone of Harry's. It was cultured honey, the type of voice that swayed public opinion. Charming. Still, there was an undercurrent of shock there that alerted Harry to one interesting fact: Draco hadn't been aware that Harry would be here. Harry swallowed again. Steeling himself, he put his glasses on and turned to Draco with his most charming smile. It felt slightly crazed.

"Hello, Draco. Pleasure to meet you…again." He laughed a little, and stuck out his head. _Act natural. You've been around a pretty face before_. Harry thought. Draco smiled, eyes a little wide, and Harry had to remind himself to breath. They shook hands, and Harry found himself unwilling to let go. Was Draco blushing? Harry grinned again, lopsided and natural. There…that was definitely a blush.

"Thank you for meeting with us Severus, I can only imagine the strain we're putting you under by being here." Narcissa began, sounding sincerely concerned. Severus waved her words away with a small glass of scotch. She accepted it with a grimace.

"Would you prefer something else?" He asked.

She smiled and Harry was surprised to find a blush settling on Severus cheeks. So he wasn't the only one affected by the Malfoy smile then? Harry grinned again, settling a little more comfortably into his chair.

"I've brought cakes, if you still have that bottle of Pinot Grigio from the wedding," her tone indicated that she knew he would, "I wouldn't mind a glass…if you wouldn't mind, of course." Her voice had lowered a slight octave, and Harry wouldn't have been wrong to say there was a bit of a purr towards the end. She smiled at Severus again and he huffed.

"Of course," he murmured. Narcissa laughed and Severus huffed again, irritated that she was toying with him. He began to exit the room, pausing as Narcissa spoke once more.

"You are much too tense, Severus. We have been through war before, I would imagine you were used to cloak and dagger nights…" Narcissa, relaxed, was apparently a playful and willful creature. Her blue eyes sparkled as she teased Severus, her gestures were languorous, almost sensual, and Harry idly wondered just how much Draco took after his mother.

He snuck a glance towards the young man, finding the sparkle in his silver eyes and the small smirk that had settled on his porcelain face extremely distracting. _Okay, I'll say he probably takes after his mother quite a bit. _

"Narcissa, old girl, how've you been?"

Narcissa turned to Sirius with a wide, charming grin and tipped her head in his direction. "Wonderful, dear Sirius. A prisoner in my own home, but I have survived worse. Is Kreacher treating you well?" She asked, though her toned already indicated that she knew he was not.

"He's batshit crazy." Was Sirius succinct reply.

Narcissa sighed, her grin dimming as she surveyed the Drawing Room. "I can only imagine…you've done well with the cleaning." She remarked.

"That mongrel has had nothing to do with the cleaning," came Severus' growl as he re-entered the room, a dusty bottle of Pinot Grigio in hand.

Sirius glared at Severus, throwing back a rather impressive amount of scotch in one gulp. He didn't even grimace, a fact which caused Harry no little amount of concern. His godfather's moods were becoming more erratic and the alcohol wasn't helping, Harry was loath to speak to the man, he was like a father to him after all, and he didn't feel right lecturing him…but…he could see a growing darkness in his adoptive father's eyes and it worried Harry. And Severus too, though he would never admit it.

The two sent each other dark looks as Severus passed Narcissa and Draco, who accept with another charming smile, two wine glasses. Their glaring match only interrupted when Harry cleared his throat.

He decided to stick with the scotch. Despite the levity so far, Harry knew this night would be arduous.

He didn't know the reason for their visit, but Harry understood the power of having Malfoy's on their side. He didn't know Narcissa or Lucius, but Harry knew Draco and Harry trusted Draco, if Draco needed help, Harry was more than willing to provide it.

"I had the elves whip these up, I imagined we would need them." Narcissa said. She had pulled a little platter from the folds of her cloak with a whispered word, enlarged it to reveal a large platter of sandwiches, cakes and pastries.

"Spot on, Narcissa…spot on." Sirius whispered almost reverently as he quickly grabbed a roast beef sandwich.

Harry and Draco went for the platter at the same time, their hands lightly brushing against one another as Harry went for what looked like a ham sandwich. He jumped slightly, not expecting the brief contact to cause such electric currents to race through his body. He stilled, sandwich in hand as he acknowledged that his body was reacting for too strongly for such a brief moment of contact.

"You alright, Harry?" Sirius asked around a mouthful of sandwich. Harry jumped again, startled and embarrassed by his reaction. Shaking his head, he resolutely refused to look in Draco's direction, instead sending Sirius a reassuring smile and nodding.

"Fine, fine. Too many options, I couldn't decide…" He muttered.

"Roast beef is good." Sirius assured, mouth still full. Narcissa grimaced and tossed a napkin in his direction.

"If you cannot resist the urge to speak with a full mouth, Sirius, at least have the decency to cover it."

Sirius chuckled, grinning roguishly at the pristine form of the Lady Malfoy.

"Duly noted, milady." He replied with mock seriousness.

"Moving on," Severus cut in. The mood instantly dampened as Severus brought the meeting round. Harry cautiously glanced at Draco and frowned. The other boy was pale, eyes tight with fear as he stared at his glass of wine. He hastily put down his sandwich and took a sip. If Harry hadn't been watching him so closely, he might not have noticed the slight shaking of his hands, but he did and his frown increased.

Whatever they needed help with, it had to do with Draco and Harry instantly found himself on high alert.

"The Chatterbox does not allow for long discourses but from your message I was able to determine that you feel that Draco's life is in imminent danger?" Opened Severus.

"Indeed," agreed Narcissa, quietly. "The day after Draco's birthday, the Dark Lord called him to his chambers. To keep this as short as possible…the Dark Lord has ordered Draco to find a means for his Death Eaters to enter Hogwarts by the end of his 6th year and…to kill Albus Dumbledore."

Harry froze in the act of biting his sandwich, his eyes automatically flicking to Draco. Draco met his gaze, his silver eyes wide and determined despite the fear that tightened his eyes and lips.

_Kill Dumbledore and get Death Eaters into Hogwarts? _Harry reviewed the order incredulously. Voldemort hadn't managed that in all the years of his terror and he expected Draco to? Harry shook his head, his face darkening. What was the meaning of this?

"Revenge, then?" Severus asked quietly. As usual, he was quicker to come to the heart of things than Harry so Harry just sat back and listened, thoughts and mood darkening further as Narcissa nodded and explained.

"Lucius failed…" she began quietly. "He was supposed to retrieve something for the Dark Lord and…he failed. We had thought that his…imprisonment…was punishment enough. The Malfoy name is tarnished in the eyes of most of Wizarding Britain and…we had thought that was enough."

Harry watched Narcissa carefully, feeling a strange sense of responsibility rise in him as the previous strong and flippant woman began to show the cracks in her armor. Her eyes fell on Draco and began to well with tears. She blinked, the tears fell and she closed her eyes.

"If I don't accomplish my mission…I and my family will be murdered." Draco said, speaking for the first time. His tone was flat but Harry detected the undercurrent of fear and he had to squash the desire that sprang within him to comfort the other boy with a hug. He wasn't a girl, no matter how androgynous his features were, and Harry doubted he would appreciate the gesture.

"Have you been Marked?" Severus asked quietly, severely.

Harry waited, hardly daring to breath. He was not expecting the harsh, barking laughter that escaped from Draco, nor did it seem, was Severus who stood and seemed ready to bundle the young man off.

"If only…" Draco muttered darkly as he finally finished laughing. Without further explanation, Draco began unbuttoning his black button down. Harry blushed, sinking further into his chair and taking a swift, and long, sip from his glass of scotch. He was sure Draco wasn't trying to make his movements sensual, was in fact more positive of that fact than he was his own name, but he couldn't help his own reaction as he watched the other man's long, nimble fingers slowly unbutton one button at a time. He was very glad every eye was glued to Draco, and no one noticed the sudden flush to his skin or the tightening of his jeans. Despite his sudden arousal, Harry felt anger more than anything else. Anger and embarrassment that he was acting like a hormonal first year.

"Oh, Merlin…Draco…"

Harry snapped out his musings as Severus' concern floated to him. His eyes automatically went to Draco and what he saw had him shooting out of his seat and kneeling before the other boy with one hand moving towards his chest before he even realized he'd left his seat.

"What the…" Harry murmured, no longer self-conscious as he kneeled before the other boy. Draco was staring at him intently, seemingly unconcerned with this state of undress or the hand slowly making its way towards his heart. Harry glanced up at him once, asking permission, and Draco inclined his head. With bated breath, Harry touched the strange black hooded Cobra that was watching him from Draco's chest. It's eyes were red and the inside of its flared hood was sliver. Harry had never seen anything like it and, as his fingers finally made contact with Draco's taut chest, he realized he had never _felt_ anything like it either. It was cold and felt just as a real snake should only…it wasn't real. It moved slightly, coils that Harry hadn't previously seen suddenly drooping down, as if from a branch, and pooling right above Draco's navel. Harry watched, fascinated by more than just the snake as he realized just how close he was to Draco's unclothed chest. He was just as sculpted here as he was in the face and not a single scar marred his skin, save for the cobra.

Harry jumped again, face turning an unruly red as the snake hissed menacingly at him and flared its hood once more. Harry snarled, backing away quickly as his scar began to burn. He gasped, dropping to his hands and knees and pressed his forehead to the carpet, hoping to alleviate the pain.

"Harry…?" It was Draco's voice, worried and small. He sounded as if he were standing at the end of a long tunnel and not a mere two feet away. Harry squeezed his eyes shut as the light in the room suddenly grow exponentially brighter. He groaned again, his head pounding in time with his heartbeat.

"_Harry!_"

Harry tried to respond, he honestly did, but the pain was increasing and it felt as if his head were going to explode. He screamed, pushing his head further into the carpet as his body convulsed.

"_Harry!_"

With a final grunt, Harry collapsed gratefully into darkness.

**-x-x-x-x-x-**

"…I cannot lose him, Severus…please!"

Harry slowly allowed consciousness to return, grateful when he felt nothing more than the fading remnants of a headache in place of the head-splitting pain he'd passed out from. His mouth was chalky, and there was a foul taste present that let him know Severus had forced some potion or another down his throat, for which Harry was infinitely grateful for once. He felt more or less normal, and if he hadn't been the victim of the pain, he would never believe it had happened to him.

He ignored the fading pain and instead focused on the two desperate voices the floated above him.

"You do not know what you ask of me, Narcissa." Came Severus' pained tones. Harry frowned.

"I know very well what I ask of you, Severus!" The Lady Malfoy snapped, "I am asking you to save your godson's life! I am asking you to _help_ him, Severus. To look after him as you normally would. I am asking you to choose your Godson over your _Masters_. He is not a _killer_, Severus. He cannot…he will _fail_."

Harry's eyes narrowed, and slowly he began to sit up. With his eyes opened he realized that he was still in the drawing room, albeit wrapped in a thick fur blanket and surrounded by pillows, and Narcissa and Severus were softly arguing by the armchairs. On second review, Harry realized that part of his fur blanket was actually Padfoot, who looked up at him with what Harry could only interpret as concern as he began to move.

Patting him on the head in reassurance, Harry slowly began to stand.

"I want nothing more than to save Draco's life," Severus growled, both he and Narcissa unaware of Harry's awakening. "But you ask me to make an Unbreakable that…that…." Severus growled inarticulately and ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

Harry stepped into the light, mind working overtime as he watched the two start guiltily and eye him with concern.

"Harry you should-"

Harry forestalled their worry with a raised hand and stepped into the firelight. He frowned between the two and finally settled on Narcissa who looked more than a little frazzled. She held his gaze, eyes wild and protective as she fought for her son. Harry glanced at Severus and, without any warning, took Narcissa into a hug. She gasped, frozen and unresponsive as he held her.

"I'll do it…" He said softly. She gasped again and, if she hadn't already been frozen, would have froze further.

"Wha-"

"I'll do it." Harry repeatedly slowly. "You want Severus' to make an Unbreakable Vow that he will protect Draco. Help him if he can. I will do it, Severus cannot. He is too important to me to have him bound under such an oath. I will do it." Harry said, voice strong and deep as he held the strung out woman.

She sagged into his embrace, for once at a loss for words. Harry held her strong. For all her majestic presence, Narcissa was a tiny woman. Shorter than Harry by at least four or five inches with a tiny waist and dainty frame. She weighed practically nothing as she sagged against him and Harry did not comment when he felt her body shudder with soft sobs.

"I don't understand." She murmured.

Severus came to stand behind her, catching Harry's gaze and holding it. He was asking permission and Harry granted it. If Severus trusted Narcissa than Harry would as well and since she was Draco's mother…Harry simply nodded his approval and allowed Severus to gently maneuver Narcissa into an armchair.

There was a steaming pot of tea that called to Harry and he gratefully poured himself a cup. Turning, he almost dropped it in shock as he found Draco fast asleep in the same armchair he'd been sitting in. The blanket he'd used for cover was slipping but the sleeping Adonis did not seem to mind. Harry watched him for a moment, following the lines of his face with care. He didn't want to analyze the intense reactions he was having to Draco, but he would enjoy them for as long as he could. Harry felt…energized oddly enough, as he stared down on the other boy and it was with some surprise that he noted he was smiling softly to himself.

With a sigh, he settled into the other armchair, watching Narcissa carefully as Severus clued her in to their reason for being here. He knew he'd begun to tell her about their suspicions that Harry was in fact the Boy-Who-Lived when she threw him a narrowed, speculative glance. Harry remained calmly sipping his tea, meeting her glance with a direct stare of his own.

He was sure, more than ever, that he was in fact the Boy-Who-Lived after touching Voldemort's Mark on Draco. Sure more than ever that being here in Britain was where he needed to be.

"Harry…" Narcissa began. Harry stood and walked to her chair. She stood as well and took his hand, he did not remark on her shaking limbs, instead only held her hand a little tighter. From the corner of his eye he could see Sirius moving into the firelight, a frown on his face.

"I cannot…in good conscience ask this of you. Draco is not a murderer, and I will not turn you into one for his sake…" She struggled with the words even as she said them, her eyes morose as she let free her only hope of her son's survival.

"Don't worry ma'am," Harry murmured quietly. "I won't let it come to that. For either of us." His voice was steady and sure and his gaze confident as Narcissa scrutinized him. He wasn't sure what she was looking for, but Harry held nothing of himself back as she stared. He showed her his determination and his strength. He was not, contrary to his earlier behavior, an adolescent teenager, unaware and unprepared. Harry knew exactly what he was risking and he knew exactly what he was saving.

Finally, Narcissa gave an almost imperceptible nod and her shoulders relaxed.

"Sir, will you act as our Bonder?"

Severus nodded looking equal parts relieved and worried. Sirius had no qualms voicing his worry.

"Pup are you sure?" He asked seriously, staring at Harry with the same fatherly concern that Harry imagined James probably washed William with. Harry was infinitely happier that it was Sirius from whom these looks were given.

"Positive," Harry responded confidently. He glanced at Draco once more, his eyes roving over the sleeping figure curiously. He felt his heart speed up as Narcissa clasped his hands, and only then did he tear his eyes away.

Impulsiveness was something Severus had tried and failed to train out of him, but this time, Harry thought Severus was grateful for it.

Sirius was still more than a little unsure but he acknowledged the desire and strength in Harry's gaze and, for once, said no more. Harry had no time to wonder what emotions his face was showing to allow such consent all around, as Severus had taken out his wand and began the incantation.

"Harry Black, do you swear to see Draco safely through to the end of his required tasks and _to carry out the deed the Dark Lord has asked him to perform_(HBP2) if he should appear to fail?"

Harry did not hesitate, "I swear it."

Harry barely saw the thin red flames lick out from Severus' wand and entwine both his and Narcissa's hands, but he could not ignore the feeling of a promise settling on his soul. He did not bow under the newfound burden, instead he straightened his shoulders and met the wide-eyed stare of Draco Malfoy with perfect confidence and poise.

"Harry…" Draco muttered softly, unsure and somewhat awed.

Then, without warning, Harry fainted.

* * *

**Author's Note: **So sorry for the long wait, life interrupted me and I had problems with this chapter. I wanted things to move ahead more swiftly but then this idea sort of took me by storm and I had to pause and let it play out. Harry and Draco's reaction to each is strong and you will see why later, but they have been in contact for years and are quite fascinated by each other so I hope no one finds their attraction too sudden? Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, please let me know what you think!

Also, I know people might feel like a lot of information is being left out, but I've done that purposefully. Harry, you will find, is a very secretive young man and I want everyone sort of in the dark with the rest of the characters until Harry is ready.

As it stands, please let me know if there is any confusion or anything? Thanks again for reading!


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